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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963229">Of Loyalty, Secrets, and Real Estate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper'>TheReluctantShipper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pet Wizard [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But more fluff than angst, For a second, John Pulls His Head Out of His Ass, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Poor Harry Just Wants a Nap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe conspires against me to get Bob and John to meet.</p><p>I panic. John corrects me.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pet Wizard [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1308146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>327</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Loyalty, Secrets, and Real Estate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of The Dresden Files, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.</p><p>- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.</p><p>- You can come see me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper">tumblr</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/TheReluctantSh1?s=09">Twitter</a> if me sharing fan edits and bitching about writer's block floats your boat.</p><p>- I come by any mistakes here honestly, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.</p><p>- Feedback is life.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Concentrate, Harry.”</p><p>“I’m <em> trying,” </em> I snarled.</p><p>I didn’t know how Bob managed to sniff dismissively without a nose, throat, or need to breathe, but he did. “Not hard enough.”</p><p>I growled a little, but I kept my eyes closed and my hands on my knees. I tried hard to focus enough to clear my mind. It was one of the first things a wizard earned, so it should have been easy, but my thoughts kept fluttering away from me.</p><p>
  <em> “Harry.” </em>
</p><p>“I <em> know, </em> Bob!”</p><p>It wasn’t Bob’s fault, and I’d feel guilty about being a dick later, but I was stressed out and tired down to my bones. I couldn’t have done so much as light a candle without risking burning down the apartment.</p><p>Which was precisely the point.</p><p>It had been a long, terrible few weeks. Both John and I had been up to our elbows in crisis after crisis. There had been unrest in the southern part of the city, where John hadn’t asserted his control recently enough, apparently. Some gang from New York had gotten uppity, gotten themselves a wizard who was a hop, skip, and a murder from being a full-fledged warlock, and tried to forcefully push their way into Chicago. The guy was peanuts compared to me, but I’d gotten irate when they’d threatened the part of town that Hannah and Lottie had moved into. One of John’s legitimate businesses had gotten into a zoning scuffle with City Hall, and another burned down. I almost didn’t get to that one in time to get everyone out, which had caused an argument John and I were both still feeling the sting of days later (not that either of us would admit it). A ghost had run rampant through an affluent neighborhood not far from my favorite of John’s safehouses, which taking down had almost gotten me sent to the hospital when John had seen me drag my sorry ass out of the house we’d had our final showdown in.</p><p>(He’d gone all steely-eyed and bitten off words, which usually really does it for me. It didn’t that time, which was how I’d known I was basically tapped.)</p><p>I was so tired and on edge that my magic, a steadily growing force that was starting to make even <em> Bob </em> hesitate, was getting unpredictable, hard to control. It was difficult to center my straying mind. I fought to focus my will, concentrate on my intent, but my thoughts kept wandering to how hectic the last months had been.</p><p>
  <em> What did I do wrong? How could I have done more? Who got hurt because of me? What will happen next? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Will I be able to use magic to stop it, whatever it is? </em>
</p><p>So many life or death situations had come up recently that I was a twitchy, neurotic mess, waiting impatiently for the next bombshell that would throw my life into chaos.</p><p>As much as I hated to admit it, being away from John, as well as sort of still on the rocks with him, wasn’t helping, either. John centered me, grounded me, and some part of me ached for him. I wanted to lay down my burdens and let him just… Control things for a while. It would have soothed both of us, but I didn’t know if he’d even want that with me right now.</p><p>(I really do turn into a teenage girl when I… <em> Care about </em> someone.)</p><p>Even if he had wanted to get all snuggly-sexy with me, though, we didn’t have <em> time. </em> There hadn’t been a single hour in the last few weeks that John hadn’t <em> needed </em> to be with his cell phone. The clean up of each disaster, followed closely by another- you guessed it!- disaster meant he had to be in constant contact with his people. Since I was so scattered that I was regularly blowing out city blocks (it was <em> one </em> time, and I was having a bad day) (and it also led to the discovery that John had bought out every neighbor in my apartment building so it was empty save for me. Weird, yes, but it meant that my control could slip a little when I was at home. Creepy, useful, efficient, and surprisingly thoughtful, that was my Johnny), being around me wasn’t something he could risk.</p><p>I got it, and I was a big boy who could handle it, but I was feeling his loss pretty keenly.</p><p>Which was why that night was so damn important. We’d both spent two weeks ruthlessly making sure we’d have an entire, uninterrupted twelve hours together. There were contingency plans on top of contingency plans, and there would be a violently pissed off wizard and mafia boss if they failed.</p><p>I was going to get laid tonight, and after we’d worked out any lingering aggression from our fight, I was going to flop on top of John and soak up his <em> John-ness </em> like a kitten in the sunshine.</p><p>
  <em> “Harry.” </em>
</p><p>“I <em> know, </em> dammit!”</p><p>“You are a <em> wizard! </em> Pull yourself together, man, and act like it!”</p><p>I gritted my teeth and spoke through a clenched jaw. “I am <em> trying-” </em></p><p>“Do! Or do not! There is no try!”</p><p>“Don’t <em> Yoda </em> me, you-”</p><p>“Well, if you weren’t being such a-”</p><p>“Don’t you finish that sentence, Bob. I will let the neighborhood kids use you for soccer practice!”</p><p>Another seemingly impossible snort. “That doesn’t even make sense! I’d be a terrible soccer player! And you don’t <em> know </em> any kids!”</p><p>“Bob, I swear to God, I-”</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>Silence fell heavily and immediately. From where I was sitting on my living room floor in front of my coffee table, where Bob was resting, I slowly turned my head.</p><p>In the doorway that separates my front hallway from my living room stood John. His eyes were a little wide, but he seemed otherwise unrattled, which meant he was just as shocked as I was.</p><p>Any other time, it would have been weird to see him there. Sure, he’d dressed down, but it was still a designer t-shirt and sweats in my ratty little apartment. Most of the time <em> I </em> was being out of place in <em> his </em> space, not the other way around.</p><p>This time, though, my brain had flatlined.</p><p>“John?” I rasped, eyes glued to John and refusing to look at Bob while my tired, confused mind tried desperately to keep up with what was going on.</p><p>Bob, who was sitting on my coffee table. Who was trying to help me meditate. Who was a fugitive from the <em> entire </em> supernatural community. Bob the Skull, my mentor, my best friend.</p><p>Bob, who had been to busy arguing with me to hear the door open.</p><p>Bob, who was <em> awake. </em></p><p>
  <em> Hell’s bells. </em>
</p><hr/><p>It had been a… Trying few weeks.</p><p>Problem after problem, and if the issue had been with the competency of my people, I could have at least dealt with that swiftly. It hadn’t been, however, not once. No, it had been the rest of the world that had been failing me.</p><p>Organizations that had wanted to test the strength of my own. People meddling in things they never could have understood. Bureaucracy and red tape slowing me down, tangling me up so fiercely that it had taken <em> days </em> to be upright again. Crisis after emergency after catastrophe.</p><p>I regretted very much that I had let the bolt of unadulterated <em> terror </em> that had swept through me when I’d watched Harry throw himself into a burning building morph itself into rage. When arguably <em> anyone </em> else would have been proud, would have been awed at the heroic picture Harry made carrying a teenager out of the collapsing building in his arms, all I saw was recklessness, foolishness. I screamed at him about what a waste it would have been if he had died, when a part of me was still ice cold with fear that <em> he could have died. </em> It had been an appalling loss of control and Harry had born the brunt of it beautifully, getting back in my face and shouting right back at me.</p><p><em> “You don’t own me, and you never will! You might have a leash on me, but I will slip out of it any time I damn well please!” </em> </p><p>Looking back, it had been glorious. All the heat and passion that drew me to him butting up against my own (usually) cool rationality.</p><p>At the time, I’d been incandescent with rage.</p><p>So yes, I regretted my actions. We’d made up in words, in handwritten letters and staticky phone calls, but I was looking forward to spending this evening <em> really </em> making it up to him. He wouldn’t see it that way, of course, and I wouldn’t let him. I’d found that the best way to come at him was often sideways, so he couldn’t see you gearing up for sincerity. Or maybe it was that <em> I </em> needed it that way, maybe I was the one who had to dress up what we were to one another in layers of double-speak and ambiguity.</p><p>I shook my head at myself as I climbed the last flight of stairs to Harry’s apartment. I’d always gotten moody when I was tired.</p><p>I pulled one of my keyrings out as I got to Harry’s front door. He’d given me a key months before he’d finally issued a formal invitation into his home, and I knew which was more significant to him.</p><p>I opened the door and almost called out to him when I heard voices raised in an argument. My mouth snapped shut and I frowned.</p><p>“-together, man, and act like it!” A voice I didn’t recognize.</p><p>“I am <em> trying-” </em> Harry growled, clearly speaking through clenched teeth.</p><p>“Do! Or do not! There is no try!”</p><p>My eyebrows rose. Harry, our own interactions notwithstanding, had an impressive hold on his temper. He’d explained once about power outages and electrical anomalies and how difficult it had been to make and keep friends when it had been obvious that what meager devices those people had managed to hold onto as they lost their homes always malfunctioned in his presence.</p><p>(Though I am not a man who dealt handily with matters of a personal nature, even <em> I’d </em> known not to give voice to my first thought. Namely, that no device has ever been so important to me that I would have forsaken Harry. I’ve never been homeless and desperate, however, so I’d kept m mouth shut at the time.)</p><p>So to hear Harry be openly irate, a mixture of frustration and stress and exhaustion, was a surprise. He was so often so reserved (with people who weren’t me), so removed from anyone else in the room. It was one of the ways I’d known that he’d let me in, let me see past the walls he kept erected around himself.</p><p>“Don’t <em> Yoda </em> me, you-”</p><p>The flare of jealousy in my chest didn’t surprise me so much as irritate me. As much of my driving need to control Harry ruled so many of my actions, I didn’t <em> actually </em> own him, as he’d so charmingly pointed out. What concern of it was mine if there was someone else he felt close enough to, free enough with, to be himself, to let his emotions run to the surface?</p><p><em> None at all, </em> I told my stomach firmly when it tried to flip in unease. <em> None at all. </em></p><p>“Well, if you weren’t being such a-”</p><p>“Don’t you finish that sentence, Bob, I will let the neighborhood kids use you for soccer practice!”</p><p>Something in me eased, much to my chagrin. <em> Bob. </em> Harry was almost as close-mouthed about his current mentor as he was about his previous one, but I knew a little. Apparently unparalleled in his knowledge of magic and its application, Bob had been with Harry since he’d come to Chicago. I didn’t know how they’d met, or really anything about the man, but there was a grumpy fondness in Harry’s voice the few times he spoke of Bob.</p><p>We weren’t men with traditional families to bring one another home to. Our separate lines of work didn’t lend themselves to much in the way of social circles. Oh, I’d met Mr. Carpenter, Ms. Rodriguez, and Lieutenant Murphy, but they didn’t really hold the same weight as family. Not when Harry had to keep so much of himself back from those interactions.</p><p>The closest thing I had to family was Nathan. Though I’d never breathe a word of it aloud, because we already knew without having to speak it into existence, Nathan was my brother in all but blood.</p><p>Harry didn’t have anyone like that, with the possible and notable exception of Bob.</p><p>I knew I should turn back around, make a production of opening the door, and leave the decision in Harry’s hands. He didn’t have much, even now, and what he did have he was stingy with. If he ever wanted us to meet, a good, responsible partner would let him make that choice on his own.</p><p>I, however, was not good. Not by a very, very long shot, really. And, try as I might to be good to <em> Harry, </em> at least, a burning part of me would never be satisfied until I had every scrap of him that I could get. That kind of obsession didn’t lend itself to responsibility.</p><p>I walked down the hall and into the living room.</p><p>“That doesn’t even make sense! I’d be a terrible soccer player! And you don’t even <em> know </em> any kids!”</p><p>The scene I stepped into… Didn’t make any sense.</p><p>Harry was sitting on the floor in front of his couch, rumped in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that was just a bit too short for him (as always). The room was just a shade too lived in to be tidy, which said quite a bit about Harry’s state of mind, as he was normally rather fastidious. AS usual, there were several candles and one old hurricane lamp lighting the space.</p><p>On the coffee table in front of Harry was… Well, it appeared to be a <em> human skull. </em> Where there should have been black emptiness in the eye sockets were two orbs of orange fire. It was finishing its strange protestation as I came to a stop in the doorway.</p><p>“Bob,” Harry said testily, “I swear to God-”</p><p><em> This </em> was Bob? How had- But why- Well, I knew Harry wasn’t actually insane, and I had seen the thing speak myself. My brain, however, refused to compute what was happening in front of me.</p><p><em> That’s what you get for hanging around a wizard, </em> a voice in my head said in what I <em> refused </em> to think of as hysteria.</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>Harry froze like a prey animal scenting a predator on the wind, then very slowly turned to stare at me with wide eyes.</p><p>“John?” His voice was gravelly, rougher with emotion than it had been with anger just moments before.</p><p>I gathered myself and tried to lessen the surprise and confusion on my face. I had no idea what to say, how to start this conversation. Or, as it might be, confrontation. It was a sensation I was unfamiliar with, quite frankly. Harry didn’t look like he was much better off.</p><p>The skull, however, had no such qualms.</p><p>“So <em> this </em> is John!” he said slyly. Mischief and a dark sort of glee were thick in his voice <em> (how?). </em> ”Mob boss and sugar daddy extraordinaire. I have <em> so </em> many questions for you. Let’s start with-”</p><p>“Bob,” Harry snapped. There was a new sharpness to his voice. “Go to sleep, that’s an order.”</p><p>The lights in the eye sockets of the skull flickered out immediately, leaving Harry and I in heavy silence.</p><p>We stared at one another for several beats, both of us at a loss as to what to do next.</p><p>“So,” I finally said, “that’s… Bob.”</p><p>Harry surged to his feet, gangly and uncoordinated. I jumped at the sudden movement, then had to beat down the nonsensical urge to take a step back when he hurried toward me. His every movement held a frantic, panicked sort of energy.</p><p>“Marcone. <em> John.” </em> What was in his voice, just then? That strained quality that I couldn’t properly place?</p><p>“Listen,” he continued, stopping an awkward distance from me, “I know- but you <em> can’t, </em> okay? This <em> is </em> Bob, but you <em> can’t </em> tell anyone about him. <em> Especially </em> any non-humans, John. It’s <em> so </em> important, you <em> can’t-” </em></p><p><em> Fear. </em> Harry was <em> scared. </em></p><p>“-my only friend, he’s my <em> only </em> friend, but he’s- John, they’d take him. He’s too valuable, so much more valuable than some kid they can’t control. They’ll take him, and they’ll use him. Who knows what for, and they-”</p><p>He was afraid, and he was babbling at a frankly astonishing speed, his hands moving in jerky gestures.</p><p>“-won’t even get him books, he won’t be <em> him </em> anymore. John, it would kill me, you <em> can’t-” </em></p><p>He was afraid of <em> me, </em> and more significantly, he was <em> begging, </em> as much as he knew how.</p><p>That was <em> intolerable. </em></p><p>“Harry-”</p><p>“-and they might not use him, they might just stick in him a locked box somewhere I couldn’t get to him-”</p><p>Now that I’d recognized the pleading, broken apart and disjointed as it was, I couldn’t stand it. I got up into his space and, without giving him time to flinch away, cradled his face in my hands.</p><p>“Harry.”</p><p>“-they might <em> destroy </em> him, John-” His voice broke on the word.</p><p><em> “Harry,” </em> I snapped out, using my Baron voice and hating it. This was too close, too intimate, too <em> important </em> for me to be cold and authoritative.</p><p>Harry was a proud, fierce creature. He had never once approached me with anything but assured confidence, feigned or not, that he would get whatever he wanted from me. He would fight like a wolverine for himself or his people, wielding his incredible power with a sort of thoughtless, fractured grace. He was magnificent, extraordinary, and he had come through so much to be here, by side, fighting me every step of the way. To hear him like this, frightened and bordering on desperate, was like nails on a chalkboard.</p><p>There was also the matter of his… <em> Declaration </em> in my office a few weeks ago. We hadn’t talked about it and nothing had changed, but it had sunk into me, digging claws of something like warmth into what I’d discovered was my irritatingly soft underbelly.</p><p>Harry had finally focused on me, his dark eyes boring into mine.</p><p>“Harry,” I said more gently, “Harry, it’s okay-”</p><p>His face was still pale and tight with distress. “I just-”</p><p>“I’m <em> loyal to you,” </em> I ground out, staring into his eyes. My emotions, usually leashed and predictable, were writhing in my chest. Irrational fury and crushing embarrassment and a feeling so warm and vibrant and <em> big </em> that everything in me shied away from acknowledging it, much less naming it. Speaking through that sort of maelstrom was… Not something I was used to.</p><p>“I’m loyal to you,” I said, staring into his eyes, the color of freshly turned earth or dark, rich chocolate. They were glued to me, as intent on me as I was on him.</p><p>“I…” I did <em> not </em> swallow nervously, but it was a near thing. “I’m loyal to you. And… Loyalty, it means keeping secrets for one another. I will keep this secret for you, whatever this secret actually <em> is, </em> of course I will.” I smiled then, a bit shakier than I wanted, but probably more genuine for it. “God knows you’ve kept plenty of mine.”</p><p>There was another small eternity that we spent staring at one another, wary even as we were scant inches apart and comfortable with it, before Harry surprised me. <em> Again. </em></p><p>He kissed me. He wrapped one long-fingered hand around the back of my neck to keep me still and he kissed the hell out of me. My response exploded out of me and I fisted my hands in the back of his t-shirt. I’m certain the gasp I heard couldn’t possibly have come out of my mouth. It must have been Harry.</p><p>Before I knew it, I was backed up against a wall, Harry pressing into my front. His hands were buried in my hair and mine scrabbled for purchase against his lean, warm back under his t-shirt. I didn’t know how we’d gotten there, and I didn’t particularly care.</p><p>He pulled away just enough to speak softly but emphatically. <em> “Thank </em> you.”</p><p>I pulled him in for another kiss, then pushed him away just far enough again. “If he’s secret, why is he here? This is hardly easily defensible, Harry.”</p><p>He was nibbling at my jaw now, tilting my head up with a hand on my neck and leaving fire in the wake of his lips. “‘S not like I have anywhere else to put him,” he murmured against my skin.</p><p>I raked my blunt fingernails against his back, knowing it would make him arch and grind against me. I was right. I turned to pant softly into his ear.</p><p>“Let me get you a house. One with a basement. You can have a proper lab, put proper wards up. Hell, you can get a <em> dog </em> for all I care.” And now I <em> did </em> swallow hard. “Let me.”</p><p>It took me a moment to recognize the rumbling in his chest as laughter. I barely had the time to become affronted before he was cupping my face in his massive hands and grinning down at me.</p><p>“Hell’s bells, John, only you would follow up a declaration of lo-<em> loyalty </em> with an offer of real estate.”</p><p>We both ignored the near slip-up. I sniffed imperiously.</p><p>“Really, it’s just good business sense to-”</p><p>There was still so much between us that we needed to address. The darker parts of my job and whether or not they called to the darker parts of him. His absolute persistence in working with self-righteous do-gooders like Carpenter and Murphy. Our city and keeping her safe.</p><p>More personally, I still had to find a way to apologize to him, either with words or with hands and tongue and teeth. He still had to decide how much to trust me, how much of himself to give to someone who was so obviously greedy for every bit. We needed to find a way to navigate this newfound <em> loyalty </em> together.</p><p>But I will forever remember how <em> right </em> everything in the world felt when Harry cut me off by pressing his laughing mouth to mine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- Okay, so. I was like "This series is ending!" and you guys were like "but what if it wasn't?" and now I'm like "Well, you've got me there." So I'm marking this series as complete... For now. I have an idea for a "final" chapter that will be sort of a final chapter and sort of standalone addition to the series, but I don't know for sure I'm going to write it. So for now, this series is completed, but if you subscribe, you'll get notified if I do post that final chapter.</p><p>- In that mindset, thank you so much for everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, or enjoyed this series. I can't tell you how much I love how much you guys love my weird little AU.</p><p>(P.S. - I'm low-key living for the line <i>Creepy, useful, efficient, and surprisingly thoughtful, that was my Johnny.</i></p></blockquote></div></div>
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